No Girls Like Them
by blueowls
Summary: Brittany/Artie friendship, side Santana/Brittany, Artie/Tina. //Brittany has that lost look on her face again, and she's sitting there with papers in her hands, staring at them like if she just watches hard enough, they'll do something.//


**Author Note:** For a request.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

** No Girls Like Them  
**

Brittany has that lost look on her face again—Artie's starting to think maybe that's just the way she _always_ looks, like confusion is her default setting—and she's sitting there with papers in her hands, staring at them like if she just watches hard enough, they'll do something.

Artie hangs back to avoid the crush of people heading out of the door of the glee room, fingers drumming on the armrests of his wheelchair as Brittany breaks out of her trance and shuffles the papers, only to resume staring at the next page. She seems to read, eyes flicking over the paper, and gnaws absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she reaches down into her backpack, getting out a pencil and pressing the tip to the paper.

She doesn't use it, though, and after another five minutes of Brittany staring at the paper with a pencil in her hand, unused, Artie sighs and rolls himself toward her.

"I was wondering if you needed any help," Artie says casually as he stops a few feet from her, and Brittany looks up, arching an eyebrow like she's surprised to find she's not the only one left in the room. "The deadline for our original compositions is coming up soon, and as a connoisseur of def poetry jams, I'd be happy to assist you."

"I already wrote my song," Brittany states flatly, and Artie feels his face heat up.

"Really?" he says nonchalantly, and Brittany nods emphatically, holding up the papers she's grasping in one hand. Artie only gets a brief glimpse of it, but there's writing down one side of the paper and he's intrigued, so he points at them. "May I see it?"

"What?"

"Can I have those papers?" Artie clarifies, and Brittany looks at him warily, like she suspects he's going to grab them and roll right out of the glee room, before finally holding them out.

"Okay, but I need them back before I leave," she says, and Artie nods, taking them gratefully.

"Of course," he agrees, and then he starts reading. It's about a page and a half long because Brittany's writing is huge and bubbly and she's got ideas jotted down in the margins that she's crossed out, but when Artie finishes reading, he looks up and can't quite manage to shut his mouth. Brittany's watching him silently, and Artie swallows.

"This is surprisingly good," he finally manages to stammer.

"_Duh_," Brittany drawls slowly, and Artie flushes because somehow, with that one little word and her head cocked to the side, Brittany makes him feel like an idiot. She rolls her eyes for effect, and Artie decides never to underestimate her again—or at least not treat her like she's mentally deficient. It's pretty embarrassing to be on the receiving end of that. "Of course it's good. It's about Santana."

Artie says nothing, because that admission leads to a whole lot of places he doesn't feel comfortable going. He rearranges Brittany's papers, lining up the edges neatly, before giving them back to her, and she slips them carefully into the front of her binder before shoving it in her backpack.

"What's your song about?" she asks before the silence can get awkward, and Artie shrugs.

"I was considering dedicating a song to a fellow member," he admits, and Brittany seems to perk up at this like it's some kind of worthwhile gossip. "But unfortunately, things between us have been rocky.

"You mean Tina?" Brittany asks bluntly, and Artie nods. Brittany sits back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest resolutely, and frowns at him. "You _were_ kind of a jerk to her."

Artie says nothing because it's true. He looks down at his hands in his lap and picks at a loose thread on the fraying edge of a finger of his gloves, and another silence falls over them before Brittany starts to tap her foot against the tile and speaks.

"She'd be happy if you wrote a song for her," Brittany offers. "Girls like that. Instruments, too. You know how Puck plays guitar?"

"Well, that's certainly an idea," Artie agrees, and although he knows he sounds hesitant, it's an idea that he's already considering. "I play guitar as well."

"You could serenade her," Brittany says excitedly, and she turns in her seat to look at him, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands as she leans forward. Artie has to looks away from those big, blue eyes because she's a little too close and her voice is wispy and hopeful. "That's romantic."

"Maybe you could do the same," Artie offers, and Brittany instantly shakes her head, sitting up and letting her hands rest on her thighs.

"I don't want to do that in public."

Artie frowns, opening his mouth to remind Brittany that glee club is completely supportive of their relationship—and really, none of them are in any position to judge—but Brittany cuts him off.

"Puck gets that look whenever we get too close and Finn starts talking about a mailman," she says almost sadly, and that frown on her face is enough to tug at Artie's heart, a little harder than he thought was possible. "I just want to do it for Santana, not for anybody else."

"Then do it in private," Artie says, and Brittany looks at him, focus settling over her features.

"Yeah," Brittany nods, and she stands abruptly and shoulders her backpack, waving at Artie over her shoulder as she turns and drifts out the door, their conversation over just as quickly as it had begun. "I think I'll do that."

* * *

With the help of Mercedes and, by extension, Kurt, Artie ambushes Tina in the glee room after school one day, guitar in hand and song memorized. She doesn't swoon or even smile—and Artie didn't expect her to—but she doesn't walk out of the room without talking to him like she usually does, and by the end of the week, they're back to a tentative friendship. Artie decides that he can work with that.

Artie sees no grand gesture of affection from Brittany, but one day, Santana starts walking around with a smile instead of a scowl on her face. Her insults are no less cutting, but they're fewer in number because she spends more time absorbed in talking to Brittany, and the slushie facials aren't as bad because the two Cheerios split the drink between them before choosing a target. There's greater risk of being poked by a straw since there's two in the cup instead of one now, but it's a risk Artie's willing to take, and it just goes to show that big fancy gestures work just as much as the little private ones.

And Artie sees that too—the importance of little things and small steps—in the way Santana offers a pinky when she thinks no one's looking and Brittany takes it, every hint of confusion gone as she looks back at Santana and smiles.


End file.
